Children of the Storm - Elizabeth Peters [148]
They drew back into a shape that was at least partially caused by amusement. “All right, Aunt Amelia, you win—as always. You are finished here for the time being, I expect. Shall I give you a lift back to the house?”
He mounted and offered me a hand. I backed away. “No, thank you, dear boy, I have enjoyed that romantic but uncomfortable experience too often. Tell Fatima we will be lunching here. And eat something before—”
He gave me a grin and a mock military salute and rode off. Thoughtfully I returned to the workroom.
FROM MANUSCRIPT H
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Once Ramses would have been happy to be left to work on the inscribed material, but he was unable to concentrate. He knew why his father had not insisted on his presence that morning. They had not discussed it; there was no need. Selim was still helpless and the children were vulnerable, and if an adversary wanted to get into the sprawling, unguarded house, there was no one to stop him except the women and Gargery. The dear old idiot would die to defend any one of them, but that was about all he could do—if he didn’t shoot himself first.
After the others had gone to the Castle, Ramses wandered rather aimlessly around the perimeter of the grounds, ending up at the clinic. The waiting room was full. Nefret’s reputation had spread; but the need was so great, the lack of decent medical care so extensive that any halfway competent physician would have more than she could handle. Ramses felt the same helpless rage Nefret must feel every day, every hour, when he saw the suppurating wounds and runny eyes, the sickly babies and the swollen bellies of girls in their early teens. Obstetrics was and would be a large part of Nefret’s practice.
Nisrin came out of the surgery. Blood spattered the front of her white gown, but she greeted him with an unperturbed smile. “Do you wish to see Nur Misur? She is sewing up this patient now.”
“No, I can see she’s busy. Unless there is something I can do to help.”
She waved him away with the patronizing air of a trained nurse dismissing male incompetence, and he went to see how Selim was getting on. Sennia was with him, devouring honey cakes and discussing the Second Intermediate Period. She was doing most of the talking. Glancing at Ramses, she said indistinctly, “We are up to the Hyksos.”
“So I hear,” Ramses said. A paw, claws fully extended, shot out from under her chair. Ramses skipped aside. Horus’s filthy temper hadn’t mellowed, but he was slowing down physically. “Are you sure Selim wants to hear about the Hyksos?”
Sennia swallowed. “He is very interested in Egyptian history. Aren’t you, Selim?”
Selim rolled his eyes and grinned. “The Little Bird is a good teacher.”
“I am good at taking care of sick people too,” Sennia said complacently.
“And the food here is excellent,” Ramses said, as she reached for another honey cake. “You seem to be getting on nicely. Don’t tire him, Little Bird.”
“I am tired of lying here,” Selim said. “I feel well. Tell Nur Misur she must let me get up.”
The subject of his telling Nefret what to do was one he preferred not to pursue. He left.
His next stop was in the courtyard, where the children were playing. After a quarter of an hour Fatima made him go away, saying it was time for their luncheon and he was getting them too excited. The shrieks of protest that followed him did sound more vehement than usual. According to his mother, children were sensitive to atmosphere; the uneasiness of the adults was probably affecting them.
Having exhausted all means of entertainment, he went back to the study, and had just begun working when Gargery came in.
“There you are, sir,” he said accusingly. “We have been looking all over for you. Mr. David—”
“You needn’t announce me, Gargery,” David said.
“Are you lunching, sir? We did not expect you. May I ask—”
“No,” Ramses said. “Run along, Gargery,